Page 273 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Hey Chef, can I get your thoughts on this?” Zach calls from across the kitchen.
Lennox looks over his shoulder, and he breathes out a sigh before turning back to me.
“Go work,” I say, even though it pains me to say it. “I can text you later.”
He shakes his head, and his eyes flash with heat. “No, don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”
Well, okay then.I kind of like it when Lennox gets bossy with me.
I watch as he talks to Zach, looking over several plates spread across the counter. He nods once, claps Zach on the back, then he’s striding toward me with purpose. He doesn’t even pause when he reaches me. He just scoops up my hand and tugs me across his kitchen, then down the hall toward the back door.
At first, I think he must be taking me outside, but then he turns into a little alcove holding a small storage shelf full of to-go coffee cups, prepackaged plastic cutlery, and the cardboard boxes catering uses to make boxed lunches. There’s an old chest freezer in the corner I’m pretty sure no one has used in years.
There isn’t a door on the space, so technically anyone could walk by at any moment, but this late, with my kitchen already shut down for the night, it’s unlikely, making this the closest thing to alone we’ve been all day.
Lennox stands apart from me, his hands propped on his hips. “I know we’re supposed to have dinner next week,” he finally says.
I nod. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” he says. “And I thought I could wait—that we could talk and have a nice meal and then . . .” His words trail off, and he takes a step toward me, hunger flashing in his gaze, but then he retreats again, like he’s fighting to restrain himself. “I don’t think I can wait, Tatum,” he says, his voice low. “I know what I’m feeling. Do you—are you feeling it too?”
I nod, barely holding back.
“Good,” he says. “Then we understand each other?”
I lick my lips, my heart pounding. “Yes, Chef.”
And then he’s on me, his strong arms circling my back as he presses his lips to mine. The kiss is frantic, arms and hands scrambling as we practically claw at each other. I cannot get close enough—though part of that problem is that he is tall, and I am short, and I reallycan’tget close enough.
But then Lennox reaches down and hoists me up so I’m sitting on the freezer, and he steps into the space between my knees.Oh my.He made that look easy, and this definitely improves the height difference.
I tilt my head, deepening the kiss and eliciting a low moan from Lennox that sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through me. I hook a hand around his neck and tug him even closer, suddenly hating that the chef’s coats we wear are so thick—sopresent.I want to feel his skin, rub my hands up his arms and feel the steady beat of his heart under my palm.
Eventually, Lennox breaks the kiss, dropping his head on my shoulder as his hands rest on either side of my waist. His chest is still heaving, and we breathe together for several moments.
Finally, he looks up and we make eye contact. “You smell like herbs de Provence,” he says as he presses a gentle kiss just in front of my earlobe.
“I was brining chickens in buttermilk,” I say, my voice soft and breathy. This is an absolutely ridiculous moment to be talking about chicken, but he’s the one who brought it up. “The herbs kick it up a notch.”
He chuckles as he trails kisses across my jaw. “Hmm, I bet,” he murmurs.
“This—what you’re doing,” I say, my voice raw with desire, “is entirely unfair.” Still, I can’t stop myself from arching my neck, exposing more of my skin like an offering. “But also, please don’t stop,” I whisper.
He seems all too happy to comply, moving down my neck before he shifts and finds my lips one more time. This kiss is more tender, less frenzied than the first, and the heat coursing through me settles to something more like a banked hearth instead of a raging forest fire.
If someone had asked me, the week I started at Stonebrook Farm, if I could ever imagine something like this happening with Lennox Hawthorne, I would have laughed myself sick.
And yet, here I am. Hereweare. And nothing has ever felt so natural.
I slide my hand over Lennox’s beard, cradling his face as we pull apart. “Not bad as far as first kisses go,” I say.
Lennox smiles, and my hands fall away. “Technically, that wasn’t our first kiss.”
My brow furrows. “What do you meantechnically?”
“The first was at Brody and Kate’s house. But we don’t have to count it,” he says saucily. “Seeing as how you were asleep.”
I gasp. “You kissed me while I wassleeping?”
